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Chapter Text

She heard them long before she saw them, their laughter almost smothering the sound of their horse‘s hooves, as it pulled their sleigh through the thick winter snow.

Three men at least. Drunk by the sound of it.

Elphaba continued to stir her potion despite her unease, her arm moving gently counterclockwise twelve times, before covering the whole and putting it in the oven to simmer. Within a few minutes, the smell of rosemary started to fill her hut.

When men came to visit her in the heart of the forbidden wood, it spelled trouble. They used to come often; villagers accusing her of destroying their crops and killing their livestock, knights in quest of glory, wishing to be the one to slay the witch, even the occasional prince seeking more power and prestige. But most of these visits had ceased a century ago. Now, most of the people coming to her hut were fools who believed the lies about the fountain of youth being hidden on her domain or brats running away from home.

“I could scare them away,” said Kaya without opening her eyes. The large grey Wolf laid half asleep at the foot of the large masonry stove. “Have a little nibble, make them run.”

Elphaba scoffed. “I thought you were too tired to move a muscle. An hour ago, you were too exhausted to deliver the potion to Matvey.”

“I am rather tired, not all of us can stay young forever. Besides, that Bear must learn a lesson. He can‘t go around eating whatever he pleases and expect not to get hex. That’s basic self-preservation.”

The witch cackled. “I will deal with them.”

“Very well.” Kaya yawned and buried herself deeper into the rya rug on which she laid. “But I offered.”

“Yes, you were quite helpful as always.” She’d hoped that the sarcasm was clear in her tone, but the Wolf did not so much as twitch an ear in response. Typical.

The men seemed to quiet down as they approached, their laughter dissipating until only the sound of their sleigh could be heard over the wailing wind.

Elphaba got up from her chair with a sigh, feeling every bit her more than 300 years. Dealing with humans never got easier, which is why she avoided their company, going so far as to hide herself away in the depth of the forest. But somehow, they always found their way to her.

The wooden floor of her hut creaked under her feet as she walked to the door. There, she waited, ready to spring out and scare them away when they got close enough.

It was not long until she heard them stop in front of her cabin, then nothing but a series of frightened whispers. They seemed to be disagreeing about who was to have the unenviable task of knocking at her door.

“You go!” said the first voice.

“No, you,” retorted the second.

“Me, why should it be me?”

“You fought a Rusalka.”

Behind her door, Elphaba rolled her eyes. If none of these men could find the courage to approach her home, she doubted any of them could survive such an encounter.

“What has that got to do with anything?” 

“You are the bravest one of us.”

“Oh so now you think…”

“Where do you think they are?” the third man inquired, cutting off the disagreement. He spoke in a high pitched voice, not even bothering to hide his terror.

“Where are what?” the first man asked.

“The chicken legs. Her hut is supposed to have legs!”

“That’s an old wives’ tale.” His companion scoffed.

This went on like this for entirely too long until Elphaba decided to take pity on them. She snapped her fingers, letting the door to her hut fly open on its hinge.

All three men turned their heads at the sudden noise. They were young. The oldest must have been no older than 30. All well built, muscled, and tall, looking strapping in their identical blue velvet uniforms. All downing the thick beard that was fashionable in this part of the land.

“Who goes there?” she said, delighting in watching them cower in fright at the sound of her voice. She would have them leave and quickly so.

The oldest of the men stepped forward, the others huddling slightly behind him. “We are her Majesty, Tsarina Irina’s royal guards.” He squared his shoulder, obviously trying to look braver than he was, but his voice trembled, giving him away.

“And who are you to dare and trespass on my forest?”

The man swallowed thickly. “We are here on behalf of your Tsarina and the ruler of this forest.”

“I have no ruler, neither do these woods,” Elphaba hissed. She and these woods had stood there long before this little tyrant had taken her first breath, and they would stand there long after she had taken her last. “Now go before I change my mind and feed you to my hut.”

She dismissed them with a wave of her hand, sending a gust of freezing wind in their direction that had them struggle to stay upright.

The youngest of the men recovered the quickest and moved forward, bowing low to her. “Our apologies Baba. We mean you no harm.”

“Then what do you want?” Elphaba bit back at the end of her patience. The open door of her hut allowed the cold wind to come in, and although she did not want to show it, the cold was starting to seep under her skin.

The young man reached in his right pocket, showing her the open palm of his left hand to signal that he had no weapon. Slowly, he unfurled a small piece of paper from his coat as he cleared his throat and began to read.

“Her Majesty, Tsarina Irina, is pleased to invite the witch of the enchanted woods, Baba Yaga, to her Highness, Princess Tatianna’s engagement ball to be held on the night of the equinox at the imperial palace.” The man paused looking at her expression which she kept cool and disinterred. “This invitation is nontransferable.”

Princess Tatianna. Elphaba had not forgotten her. A spoiled brat who had made her way to her hut to seek her help. A witch had stolen her identity and run off with her fiancé, and the spoiled little thing had thought that Baba Yaga of all people would help her in exchange of the promise of gold. As if Elphaba needed her gold.

The princess did not even have the grace to cook and clean for herself, expecting to be served hand and foot.

Obnoxious and pathetic little creature, the exact kind of girl that Elphaba would normally curse to spit out toads and vipers for the rest of her useless life, but for Oz knows what reason, she ended up helping her instead, restoring her identity and fiancé to her and sending away the lesser witch that had been the cause of her trouble.

A nuisance!

Truly, there had been no reason to grant the little brat her help.

Elphaba shook away the image of the princess’ pretty blonde curls and large doe eyes from her mind. “Give me that!”

The boy looked at her extended hand warily, and Elphaba sighed, exasperated.

With a snap of her fingers, the wind was carrying the invitation to her waiting hand.

“What should we answer her Majesty?” the only man who had yet to speak asked her.

Elphaba only glared at them and slammed the door of her hut shut, leaving them out in the cold.

“So, a ball?” Kaya asked, obviously amused.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“Not with the door open in the middle of winter, I wasn’t.”

“Sorry,” Elphaba mumbled a bit more contrite.

“Hard to picture you dancing the night away,” Kaya snickered

Elphaba did not answer. The girl who used to dance at the Ozdust felt so far away, she might as well be someone else. The witch could barely even recall those days.

She remembered that she would go on weekends with Nessa, Boq, Fiyero, and… well, she remembered that she went, but none of the particular.

She would not be able to find the hidden entrance to the ballroom now or sing a single tune from the music they played there. She had even forgotten what kind of drinks they used to order at the bar. She remembered that there had been one that she liked, but not what it was.

The memories had been a victim of time, too many years had passed since those golden days at Shiz. All she could remember now was that she used to go to the Ozdust ballroom sometimes, but nothing else.

Of course, that was not completely true because she could still remember a dance, a flash of pink, a hand wiping a tear from her cheeks…

Elphaba shook her head as if trying to expel the memory from her mind. There was no point in thinking about those days. They were long past.

“Will you go?”

Elphaba snorted at the absurdity of the question. “But how ever will I choose which ballgown to wear?” 

Kaya laughed along, quite entertained, the image of ugly, frumpy Baba Yaga in a ballgown obviously ridiculous enough to make her heave.

Elphaba opened the oven door. Her potion was still bubbling inside, a fresh waft of rosemary smell emanating from it. The witch stuck her hand inside, feeling the scalding air burn her still chilled skin as she held the royal invitation to the fire. She almost dropped it in, ready to let the asinine note get consumed by flames, but a strange feeling in her chest stopped her.

It was hard to describe, something between nausea and excitement was twisting her inside.

She removed her hand and closed the oven door, looking down at the invitation with its expensive gold lettering.

Fiyero would like to go.

He never complained, not in front of her, but she knew that he sometimes missed it, the parties, the drinking, the pretty girls…

Perhaps he would like to go, together with Coppelia, his new girlfriend. She could give him the invitation, let them enjoy the night instead of her.

Elphaba held the thought in her mind. Fiyero in his best suit dancing under a crystal chandelier with his pretty porcelain doll in his arms. He would like that.

She sat at her kitchen table, filling a teacup with coffee from her samovar, watching the warm mist evaporating from it rise and disappear into the still chilled room. She sipped from her cup, the tart taste pleasant on her tongue, as she let the hot beverage warm her up.

She allowed her shoulders to droop. She was tired, the men’s visit having shaken her more than she cared to admit. But they were gone now, the sound of the howling wind and the creeping fire of her stove all that could be heard.

She held up the invitation to the flickering flame of a candle and read the words over again. What sort of ninny would send a party invitation to the most feared witch in all the land? She chuckled darkly, staring at the neat and expensive lettering.

“This invitation is nontransferable.” The familiar wording made her smile bitterly.

She would need to come along. She imagined herself, dressed in her usually ragged dress, flying with her mortar and pestle to the imperial palace. Now, there was a picture!

Those conceited royals certainly did not actually expect her to attend. This was a polite gesture, no more. An empty one.

And yet, the silly young girl inside of her, the one that had practiced tossing her hair in front of a mirror, the one that had chosen her dresses every morning with care, cringed at the thought of standing in a room full of strangers that looked on her with horror. 

For the space of a moment, the witch caught herself worrying about her appearance.

Before she could catch herself, her traitorous mind conjured the picture of a long-gone dimpled smile.

No, none of that, Elphie. Listen to me, you are already beautiful, I am just helping you notice.You are going to look absolutely scrumptacious tonight!

Elphaba felt something prickle her eyes. She exhaled, letting the memory go. She was being foolish.

Let those royals recoil at her appearance. It would serve them right for inviting a witch to their party. And Fiyero would enjoy himself. She felt sure of that.

She would need to send word to him tomorrow. Ulma would be happy for the chance to repay her for her help healing her snapped wings. The young Crow could fly there in less than a day.

Fiyero would tell her if he wished to go. He might still tell her no. But the feeling that would not leave her chest, that strange premonition sitting awkwardly between dread and elation told her that he would say yes.

Chapter Text

The snow fell as heavy as dove feathers on the night of the equinox. Elphaba was travelling in her mortar with her two companions, regretting her choice of a dress. Her options had been limited. It was not as if she had much occasions to attend balls these days.

So, she had opted for her cleanest and neatest dress, the one with the fewest patches and holes. In fact, it had only one patch, a souvenir from the time she rescued a young Deer from being turned into a teapot by the Vodyanoy.

As spotless as it was, this dress did not offer much protection against the elements; hence, why it was in such good condition. She never wore it.

Her hands around her pelter were starting to feel numb, her cape, scarf, and mittens were simply no match against the freezing wind as she flew through the air at the speed of galloping horses.

Her companions, one made of straw and the other of porcelain, however, felt no such discomfort.

“Do you think they will have a chandelier?” Coppelia asked. The doll had been bombarding them with questions the whole journey, reminding Elphaba why she seldom visited Fiyero these days. The girl was nice enough, but a little of her went a long way in the witch’s opinion.

“I expect so.” Fiyero smiled at her, seemingly impervious to her barrage of questions. The scarecrow was wearing his best coat made of grey brocade, his straw carefully tucked inside.

“Was there a chandelier in your house, growing up?”

The animated doll for her part had opted for a soft dress of lavender tulle that only reached her knees. Her upper left leg was slightly chipped, something which Coppelia was extremely self-conscious about, or so Fiyero told Elphaba, but the dress did a good enough job of covering it up. The downside of being made of porcelain, the witch thought. On the upside, one could not freeze to death.

“There were several,” Fiyero answered without a trace of longing. For all her friend missed being human, he clearly did not miss being a prince.

“That must have been nice.”

“Not really.”

“Oh, do you think the princess will wear a tiara?” The doll continued undeterred by her beau’s lack of enthusiasm. “I have never seen one either.”

Elphaba gritted her teeth, trying to keep from snapping at the girl.

The thick snow made it difficult to see where they were going, snowflakes catching on her lashes, making it hard to keep her eyes open. The wind screamed in her ears while it nipped at her skin like a thousand small knives, but her companions kept on talking the night away.

The witch felt sure she would crack and reverse the spell that had given the doll life when the imperial palace came into view.

The granite white and blue structure almost matched the ice and snow surrounding it, but its windows shone as if each of the rooms visible inside was lit by hundreds of candles.

Guests were still arriving. In ostentatious clothes, they were being helped down horse-drawn carriages; men wearing too many jewels, women with feathers in their hair.

Elphaba hid her mortar and pelter behind a grouping of pine trees and helped her companions get out. The doll had gone suddenly quiet as they came near the palace, and Elphaba sighed in relief.

The trio made the rest of the way on foot. The witch felt grateful that her warm boots were better at protecting her from the cold than her dress as her feet sunk deep into the soft snow. At least, her toes would not freeze.

When they finally reached the entrance, the two guards posted there recoiled at the sight of her.

“Leave witch!” one of them spat. “This palace is well protected against your nefarious art.”

Elphaba reached down into her pocket, and the two men rushed to point their spears in her direction, bracing themselves for a fight.

She rolled her eyes, holding up her invitation for them to see.

“I was invited.” She pointed at the golden lettering.

The two guards looked at each other, confused.

“Impossible!” said one.

“Not possible,” agreed the other.

“And yet, here we are.” She continued to hold up the letter in their incredulous faces. “Signed by your Tsarina. Now, let us pass.”

The two men continued to stare at her, eyes as wide as goldfish. Finally, having had enough, Elphaba waved her hand and sent them sprawling in different directions. She could still hear their scream of alarm as she stepped into the palace.

People stared at their approach. She had expected it, but it did not make it any easier.

Of course, no one offered to take her coat, so Elphaba put it down on a chair along with her scarves and mittens. She stumped her feet to get rid of the snow on her boots for good measure. She could be civilised even if no one else here was.

The ballroom they stepped into was made of white marble. Blue tapestries and coats of arms covered the walls, while gold mirrors and chandeliers embellished the space.

Hundreds of colourfully dressed guests were gathered at the bottom of a large staircase. Elphaba could see them dancing and drinking from champagne flutes, the noise of their conversations almost as loud as the waltz music playing over the scene.

Beside her, she could feel Fiyero grin at the sight.

She approached the top of the staircase, ready to walk down and join the festivities, when everyone went quiet.

Conversation ceased. Musicians dropped their instruments. Several guests cowered in fright. The terrible witch, Baba Yaga was amongst them.

Elphaba looked at them. Women in garish dresses. Men in toupee. All watching her with large, frightened eyes.

This was exactly why she avoided the company of humans. They were ugly, small minded creatures, so quick to judge. Animals had better manners, always had and always would.

Outside a clock struck the 9th hour. She heard a gasp, a few whispers of “Witch” and even one “Cannibal.”

The whole room held its breath.

For the space of a moment, Elphaba wondered if she should give them the show they obviously wanted. Perhaps, she could blow out all of the candles and…

“Oh look, Fiyero, a chandelier!” Coppelia pointed a porcelain finger at the large crystal fixture hanging over the room.

Elphaba cackled.

Someone screamed. A young man fainted in the arms of his companion. These fools probably expected her to curse them or something as inane as that.

The witch made her way down, followed by her companions, the nobles parting like waves to let her pass.

On a dais at the back of the room, the imperial family were assembled, staring at the trio with the same shocked expression as everyone else’s.

The princess sat at the right side of her fiancé, a cherub-faced young man, dressed in a handsome blue velvet coat. The young girl herself looked stunning, Elphaba was forced to acknowledge, in a silky dress matching the colour of her beloved; she wore her blonde hair up in a chignon, a few delicate curls escaping the updo so as to best show her long swan neck.

Her parents sat on the other hand of the dais. The Tsar, a man in his early forty, with a large red beard, stricken with white sat on his velvet throne, a gold crown studded with sapphires sitting on his head. Tsarina Irina, just as pretty as her daughter, looked at Elphaba, her face frozen in a polite smile, her green eyes, which contrasted so nicely with her brown tresses, were full of barely disguised terror as she addressed the witch.

“You are most welcome here, Baba Yaga.” Her voice sounded thin, but she continued to smile at Elphaba, tossing her head in the direction of Fiyero and Coppelia. “And of course, your companions are as well.”

“Thank you,” the witch answered drily.

“We are very thankful for the invitation, your Majesty.” Fiyero bowed low to the Tsar and his wife. But the Tsarina only seemed bemused by the sight of a talking scarecrow.

“We are so glad you came.” Princess Tatianna was quick to intervene, squeezing the hand of her prince in her own. “None of this would be possible without you.”

“Of course.” Her mother nodded in assent, her head bobbing up and down like a chicken pecking the ground for worms. Elphaba stifled a laugh.

A reflection from the chandelier caught her eyes, and she found herself looking down at the Tsarina’s toes which were glinting in the light. For there, on her dainty little feet were a pair of the most ridiculous shoes Elphaba had ever seen in her unending life. The sovereign’s bare feet were almost visible behind their covering, her slippers sparkling like crystals under the light of the chandelier

The Tsarina was wearing glass slippers. To a ball. Who would be foolish enough to do that?

Absurd woman!

“We have all been looking forward to tonight,” Fiyero continued, trying to break the tension.

“Oh yes,” Coppelia added helpfully, blinking her glass eyes in their direction. “Very much.”

“That’s wonderful to hear.” The princess smiled at them. “Is it not so, my love?”

The prince startled at being addressed, quickly wiping away the horror filled expression from his face to replace it with an unconvincing grin. “Wonderful! Quite so.”

“Godmother will be so glad to meet you when she arrives. Won’t she, mother?”

“Of course,” the Tsarina answered, seemingly incapable of saying anything else.

“I look forward to it,” Elphaba answered, meaning the exact opposite.

Silence fell as all possible niceties had been exhausted. The royal family stared at the witch and her odd friends, their expressions frozen in crisp polite smiles, all but the Tsar who remained quiet, glaring at them with disapproving expression.

Elphaba stared back at them, refusing to break the awkward silence. She would not bend over backward to make these people more comfortable.

“We were told there would be dancing?” It was Fiyero who spoke.

The princess almost sighed in relief. “Yes, of course, dancing. But there is no music. Why is there no music?” She turned around and looked up at a balcony above her head, where a small orchestra was standing, watching the scene unfolding downstairs with great curiosity. “Why did you stop playing? Play!” The girl waved her arm and the music started once more.

Slowly the dancing began again, once the guests seemed satisfied that Elphaba would not turn them all into toads or whatever frightening fantasy they had cooked up in their minds since her arrival.

Fiyero took Coppelia’s hand and the two began to waltz, joining the many couples spinning in the middle of the room. The doll said something in her beau’s ears. He laughed in delight. Elphaba watched them, a small smile playing on her lips.

This made it all worth it.

For her part, the witch retreated to the far corner of the ballroom, the rest of the partygoers giving her a wide berth. She stood in a corner, watching, ready to spend her night there, surveying the party but never joining it.

It was strange watching humans interact. So many of them all gathered in this single room. Elphaba, who had been avoiding their company for the better part of two centuries, felt almost overwhelmed by the sight and smell of the ballroom.

An elderly man was whispering sweet nothings to a woman half his age. Two matrons walked by her, frantically discussing the romantic prospect of one young man or another. Elphaba had to cover her nose at their passing, the smell of their perfume giving her a headache.

On the other side of the room, a group of young girls were giggling, trying to catch the attention of a group of young men engaged in a drinking contest.

Elphaba stood in her corner for what must have been close to an hour, observing the guests. Fiyero came by once to ask her to dance, but she turned him down.

Her dancing days were long gone.

Time seemed to move slowly, and yet, Elphaba continued to stand, waiting for the night to end.  

She heard a clock somewhere strike the 10th hour, and she wondered idly if perhaps her companions would agree to leave by the 12th, when the music ceased. People’s loud conversations became whispers, as they all turned their heads to look up at the top of the ballroom’ staircase.

The witch followed their gaze.

And her heart stilled.

She stopped breathing.

Because there she was.

There, at the top of the stairs. Standing. Beautiful. Alive.

Elphaba trembled at the sight.

She was smiling at her crowd of admirers, in a voluptuous white dress.

“Organza,” Elphaba thought, long buried memories of shopping trips with her roommate coming back to the surface.

Her dress was studded with diamonds in the shape of small stars which matched the delicate tiara on her golden head. The light of the candles seemed to reflect back on her, giving the impression that she was shining like fresh snow on a sunny winter day.

“Pretty,” Elphaba’s addled mind supplied.

“Sorry, I am late.” The good witch gave a toss of her blonde curls as she laughed, a sweet clear sound. People fawned at her, erupting in applause.

Elphaba felt her heart race in her chest. An animal caught in a trap. Her palms were sweaty. She was sure she would faint. She had never fainted before. But she might tonight.

It had been 300 years! How could she still be alive?

Glinda’s feet glowed crimson like blood against her snow-white dress as she slowly stepped down the long staircase. Elphaba gazed at her former friend’s feet, her mind barely registering what she was seeing.

Rubies.

She was wearing rubies. Ruby slippers to be exact.

Melena Thropp’ shoes.

“Fairy Godmother!” the Tsarina and princess both greeted her, looking like children on Lurlinemas morning.

“Cinderella, Anna, my darlings.” Glinda flashed her dimple as she stood at the foot of the dais. “How marvellous to see you looking so lovely tonight. Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. I did bless you both to be beautiful.”

Glinda chuckled as if she had just told a clever joke.

The Tsarina answered something kind and polite, but the reply was lost on Elphaba.

All that she could hear was the sound of her own blood rushing through her ears, her own panting breath. She felt too hot. She felt too cold. She felt too much.

The crowd cooed and petted Glinda, but Elphaba could not make any sense of the scene.

She was supposed to be dead. It had been 300 years. Elphaba had long resigned herself to living in a world where Glinda did not.

She had cried so many nights as her mind wandered to thoughts of her friend.

She had worried over the details of her death.

Had she lived to old age?

Did it hurt? Was it peaceful?

Had she been alone?

Elphaba had mourned her!

For centuries, she had mourned her.

Glinda smiled at the crowd. Elphaba blinked, wondering if she might yet disappear.

But there she was. Alive. Breathing.

Dazzling.

The green witch shivered.

“There’s someone I would like you to meet.”

Elphaba came back to herself with a start.

The princess was holding on to her godmother’s arm as she led her away from the dais.

“How lovely,” the good witch answered absent mindedly.

Elphaba watched as the two women made their way across the ballroom at a quick pace.

She had no time to hide. Remembering too late the princess’ promise to introduce her to her godmother, she looked around her, wondering if she should try and run for it. It would be humiliating, but she would survive the embarrassment. This, she was not sure she would survive.

Then before Elphaba could move a muscle, she was there.

The green woman felt like her heart was ready to give out because Glinda, her Galinda, was standing right there, in front of her, staring at her.

The blonde’s face was almost as white as her dress, her large doe eyes wide as saucers as she took in the sight of her old friend.

Elphaba opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“I am so very glad, I get to introduce you both.” The princess was speaking, but neither of the witches seemed able to register a word she was uttering. “Godmother, this is the witch I was telling you about, the one who rescued me. Baba Yaga, this is my and mother’s fairy godmother.”

“Pleasure,” Elphaba nearly croaked, her throat feeling tight enough to choke, the word spilling out before she could even think about what she was saying.

“Oh,” Glinda waved her hand, a febrile little smile gracing her lips. “Elphaba and I know each other.”

“You do?” The princess raised an eyebrow at this.

“It was so long ago,” Glinda went on, shaking her head in a dismissive gesture. “I can barely remember, but we knew each other briefly in our youth.”

Elphaba’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She felt nauseous.

“Truly? What a fortunate coincidence.”

“Serendipicious, one might say.” The good witch smiled, her stage smile, all teeth and no light in her eyes.

"Serendipitous," Elphaba corrected her.

Glinda paused, her smile faltering only for a moment before she seemed to get a hold of herself once more.

“Exactly. Well, it has been a pleasure to see you again, but I should make the rounds, say hello to everyone.”

The dismissal shook Elphaba enough to react. She had missed her friend for too long to simply let her go.

“Glinda.” Elphaba reached a hand forward, but all she caught was air as the other witch had already turned away.

“Truly, a delight.” Glinda continued as if she had not been interrupted. “We should catch up. Tata now.”

Then the good witch did disappear, swallowed by the crowd.

“Well, that was…” The princess was still standing there, smiling awkwardly back at the green woman. “Brilliant. Yes, quite brilliant! Wasn’t it just?”

Elphaba did not answer.

She wanted to run after Glinda and demand an explanation. She wanted to run in the other direction and never look back.

In her shameful moments of weakness, she had imagined this. She had pictured what it would be like to see her again. She had imagined tears, tight hugs, cruel words, shouts, even a slap. But in all of these countless fantasies, she had never imagined this.

She had never thought that Glinda could simply walk away with a “We should catch up,” as if they had been nothing but mere acquaintances. As if they had not left a handprint on each other’s heart.

The old organ in her chest bled from the stab.

“Well, I too should make the round.” The princess turned away, obviously uncomfortable. “I still have many guests to greet tonight.”

With that the young girl spun on her heels and was absorbed by the crowd in her turn.

But Elphaba did not react. She was still staring at the spot where Glinda had been.

Chapter Text

Elphaba had been watching Glinda all night. The blonde had been making her way around the room, stopping here and there to join a conversation before being whisked away in the arms of one dance partner after another. 

Young men and women seemed to flock to her, trying to catch her attention which she offered happily. She had a smile and a kind word for everyone. Each person she talked to seemed to leave the conversation smiling blissfully, appearing almost ensorcelled. But she never showed any particular interest in any of them that Elphaba could detect.

Currently, Glinda was spinning around the ballroom floor in the arms of a broad-shouldered man that reminded Elphaba of Fiyero, or rather Fiyero as he once had been. There was something in the way this man carried himself, his smile, his eyes…

Elphaba felt the familiar guilt rise in her chest. She didn’t dwell on that feeling as much as she once had. Fiyero was happy, and most of all he was alive. Yet, there were still moments like this one where she wished he had never crossed her path. Perhaps if he hadn’t, he would be the one holding Glinda now.

As if sensing her friend’s gaze, Glinda’s head turned in Elphaba’s direction. 

Their eyes caught.

Elphaba held her breath. Her body trembled. 

She hoped it was not obvious. 

She was not embarrassed to be found staring, but after their short meeting, she was still wary of Glinda’s reaction.

She tried to give the other witch a smile, although she felt certain it came out looking more like a grimace. Glinda frowned, pursing her lips, then turned away.

But Elphaba caught her glancing quickly back as if to make sure that the green witch was still watching her.

Elphaba waved at her, and Glinda stumbled, missing a step in the dance.

Elphaba was watching in amusement as the pretty blonde apologised to her partner, when Fiyero walked up next to her.

“Is that really her?” Fiyero’s mouth was gaping. The scarecrow’s face was not as expressive as it used to be, but there was no hiding his confusion. Had they been capable of it, his button eyes would most certainly have bulged out of his head.

“Yes,” the green witch answered him without taking her eyes off the dancing couple.

“How is it possible?”

Elphaba shrugged, just as incredulous.

“Did you talk to her?”

“Yes,” she responded, not elaborating further.

“What did she say?” Fiyero asked, oblivious, as always, to her discomfort. 

Back in the days, long ago, when they had first settled in her former home under the magic well, Glinda had been a sour subject between them. Elphaba had been full of guilt and he hadn't been. 

She had learnt to keep her thoughts and feelings about the blonde to herself. They were better left private. 

“Where is Coppelia?” The witch changed the topic, feeling oddly vulnerable.

“I told her that the ice sculpture by the champagne fountain was made of the frozen tears of a real swan. She went over to have a look.” 

He could not meet her eyes.

“And why would you do that?” 

Truthfully, Elphaba didn't care. She had made up excuses to get away from the doll on many occasions, but the scarecrow always seemed to enjoy her antics.

“I didn’t want her to know about…” He waved a hand towards the many couples waltzing.

“And why not?” 

“You know how she gets. It took her years to feel comfortable around you after she learnt about…you know...” He gestured vaguely between them. “How we were together. I just don’t think she would take well to her.”

She could well imagine why Coppelia might feel insecure next to Glinda. She herself had felt the same once upon a time. 

That night in the forest, she had found herself thinking about her friend, comparing her own nakedness to the imagined form of the blonde, wondering if the Winkie Prince had found her more desirable. Her mind had wandered to thoughts of Glinda's skin and whether it was softer than her own after years on the run. She had worried that the other girl’s breasts might be fuller, fit better in his hands, that her touch had been more experienced than Elphaba’s, that she had known tricks that the other witch could not even fantasize about.

Years later, when her relationship with Fiyero had started to show its cracks, she had struggled with the fact that his desire for her had all but dried up following his transformation. He had never found her beautiful in the first place, and now that he no longer had a human form, he couldn't want her in that way. To fill her own needs, Elphaba’s mind had turned to fantasies of being with Fiyero, but she soon discovered that her own image brought her no pleasure, her insecurities about her body were too great. She instead tortured herself with thoughts of Glinda and what she must have looked like, felt like, sounded like when she was with the prince.

She could understand all too well how the doll might feel about Glinda.

“Because she’s beautiful.” She swallowed.

Fiyero frowned as if her statement made little sense to him 

“Because we were, although admittedly briefly, engaged,” he retorted back.

“That was centuries ago.”

“Yes, well…” Fiyero threw out his hands.

Elphaba shook her head. She never would understand their relationship.

“Coppelia’s coming this way. I should…”

Indeed, the doll was walking in their direction, looking excited about something or other that Elphaba was sure to care nothing about.

“Go.” Elphaba waved him away, but Fiyero turned to her, seemingly nervous.

“You won’t mention it to her.” He played with the straw of his hands.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.” He let out a relieved smile and turned away to join his girlfriend by the foot of the stairwell.

Elphaba glanced back towards the dancers, searching for Glinda when she found the other witch, still dancing with the same man, directly staring at her.

Caught, the blonde blushed a pretty pink and hid away behind her partner’s shoulders.

Had she seen Fiyero? Did she guess who he was?

She must be wondering why Dorothy’ scarecrow was talking with the Wicked Witch of the West.

Elphaba felt bile running up her throat as she worried about what Glinda might be thinking , but the other woman kept on dancing, seemingly content to go back to pretending the green witch didn't exist.

The waltz came to an end just as the clock struck the 12th hour. The Tsarina stood up from her throne to make a speech about the happy couple which delighted the room, but bored Elphaba to tears. The prince and princess beamed at the onslaught of flattery from their gathered guests, and the witch rolled her eyes. The appeal of romance had long been lost on her.

After what seemed to her like an eternity, but must have actually been only a few minutes, the Tsarina announced that supper would be served in the adjacent dining room. 

From her spot in the middle of the dancefloor, Glinda's voice rose above the crowd. 

“Irina, darling, I hope you weren't planning on going anywhere because I hear that the pumpkin soup is very fresh,” she joked which left Elphaba befuddled, but which everyone else seemed to find hilarious, judging by the loud laughter and torrential applause that followed.

The good witch preened at their reaction, smiling and straightening her shoulders. She reminded Elphaba of a bird fluffing its feathers, and the green woman smiled, charmed by the display.

Everyone slowly made their way towards the adjacent dining room. Elphaba followed behind after, wary of leaving the safety of her little corner of the room, the heels of her boots echoing loudly against the empty ballroom floor.

The dining room was a display in excess. The place was covered in gold from walls to ceiling, cherubs with golden wings held on to wreaths of golden leafs over carefully molded archways. Gold chandeliers stood over gold studded chairs. And in the middle of all of this several large mahogany tables were loaded up with plates filled with attractive dishes, each more elaborate than the next. There were colourful fruits that did not grow in this part of the land, vegetables cooked in expensive herbs and spices, but also at least ten different varieties of fish, as well as pheasant, venison, swan, pigeon, unsalted ham…

No one had expected Baba Yaga to actually come to the ball, and so there was confusion about where she and her companions would be seated.

Fiyero and Coppelia declined the offer of a seat, demurring that since they could not eat, there was no reason to revise the seating chart on their behalf. They instead asked if they could have a tour of the palace, Coppelia’s enthusiasm for the sights of the imperial home having obviously not diminished.

A maid was fetched from what Elphaba suspected was her bed to accommodate them. Fiyero had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed by this.

The question remained of where to sit the most terrifying witch in all the land. It took a long time to deliberate which unfortunate soul would have the displeasure of having to make conversation with her.

Elphaba was about to decline the invitation and go back to her corner of the ballroom, when it was decided that as the fairy godmother and the witch knew each other, it would be most sensible to have them share a table. The duchess that was supposed to be seated there had been too ill to come tonight anyway.

And so, Elphaba found herself sharing a meal with Glinda Upland for the first time in centuries. The thought struck the green witch that they had not done so since those long ago days at Shiz, not since their ill fated visit of the Emerald City to be exact.

As was gallant and proper, a man was sitting in between them. He was tall and lanky and looked obviously uncomfortable with his proximity to Baba Yaga.

Elphaba watched him as he loaded Glinda's plate with a sample of every dish on their table. His task once completed, he began to prepare his own meal.

“And what is Elphaba supposed to eat?” Glinda pinched her lips, her tone clipped, looking at the other woman’s empty plate.

“Who?” The young man blinked, a stupid expression on his face.

“That’s alright. I can serve myself.” Elphaba went to do just that, as Glinda raised a hand to stop her.

“That is obviously not alright. Gentlemen are supposed to serve ladies. That’s good manners.”

There was a look in the blonde’s eyes just then that Elphaba had never seen before, something dangerous in her glare, almost predatory like a wolf getting ready to attack its prey. The young man gulped, seeming to sense that he was treading on dangerous grounds.

“Of course, my lady.” He nodded, grabbing Elphaba’s plate which he started to fill with a bit of meat pie.

“Put that back!” Glinda's eyes flashed. “Elphaba doesn’t eat meat. Serve her that one here.” She pointed at a dish of root vegetables. “And give her some of those as well. And maybe this. Oh, and you should give her some of that pineapple when she is done.”

“Yes, my lady!”

“Glinda…” Elphaba began to say, but the good witch turned away as if she had not heard anything.

“So General.” The blonde, bright smile back in place, turned to her right to speak to a man in a military uniform who was wearing a large white mustache. Knowing Glinda, she probably found it adorable. “ Tell me, are Zmeis truly as terrifying as all that? Your wife was telling me that you have faced many.”

The man stuck up his chest, obviously flattered by her attention, and Glinda continued to regale him with questions, completely ignoring the companions to her left.

Elphaba sighed, abandoning hope of catching her friend’s attention, and she instead looked down at her now full plate, secretly pleased to find it so. She began to dig into her meal, savouring every bite. It had been many years since she had been treated to such fine food.

She sampled some of everything, enjoying every new flavor. She even had to muffle a moan at the taste of a ripe tomato cooked in oil and spices which she had never had the pleasure of trying before. Glinda turned to stare at her, looking a tad flushed as she cleared her throat.

“As I was saying…” The good witch tried to continue her no doubt riveting conversation. “I don't get to travel as often as I’d like, so you must not spare a detail for me.”

She had barely touched her food. She must have had no more than two bites when Elphaba was almost halfway finished with her own plate.

“You have to taste this, Glinda,” Elphaba interrupted the conversation, pointing at the dish of spicy tomatoes.

She gave another moan as she swallowed a bite. 

Glinda dropped her utensils, the clatter reverberating against the marble walls, as she turned scarlet.

Elphaba ignored her friend’s dramatics; she had always cared entirely too much about etiquette. No doubt she was embarrassed by the green witch’s table manners. Admittedly, they had suffered after centuries of isolation from other humans.

Elphaba cut a piece of tomato on her own plate and held it up to the good witch’s lips, hoping to encourage her to eat.

Glinda opened her mouth to protest, but Elphaba took the opportunity to push the juicy red fruit past her lips. The blonde chewed compulsively, her large doe eyes fixated on the green woman’s face, her own as red as her slippers. She swallowed the bite thickly.

“Good, isn't it?” Elphaba smiled at her.

Glinda whimpered. 

“Excuse me a moment.” The good witch stood up, knocking the table in her haste.

The man with the mustache tried to call her back, but Glinda did not acknowledge his call as she made her escape.

Without the good witch’s presence, the table felt even more tense than before. It seemed like she had served somewhat as a buffer between the terrifying Baba Yaga and everyone else there. Once she was gone, the temperature amongst the gathered nobles got noticeably cooler.

Elphaba tried to wait for her to come back, but after a few minutes of feeling the weight of the gazes of the other guests upon her, she decided to go out to look for her.

Glinda was not in the ballroom. Only a few of the youngest guests were still there, brazenly flirting with each other now that the chaperones were away. She was not in the adjacent music room which was empty. She wasn't in the billiard room either where a few elderly gentlemen were playing and smoking cigars. 

Elphaba was about to give up and look for Fiyero and Coppelia instead, when she found the other witch hurrying down a corridor heading to the grand entrance. 

“Are you leaving?” The blonde continued to walk towards the doors as if Elphaba hadn't said anything. “Glinda!”

Glinda came to a stop but did not turn to face her 

“Are you leaving already?” Her own voice sounded small to her ears.

“Yes, it's getting rather late,” the blonde answered, her tone falsely cheerful.

“Oh.” Elphaba fisted the skirt of her dress, feeling the rough material against her fingers.

Downstairs, guests were laughing. Someone began to clink their champagne glass, demanding the betrothed kiss.

Glinda still didn't turn. Elphaba watched her back at a loss as to what to say to get her to turn around, to get her to stay. 

“Well, goodnight then.” Glinda started to step towards the entrance.

“Wait!” 

The other witch came to a stop once again with a long suffering sigh. 

“Yes.” 

For centuries, Elphaba had mourned this girl. In the early days of her exile, Elphaba had imagined so many conversations with Glinda, telling her the most boring concerns of her days and the greatest secrets of her heart. She had despaired about the fact that she would never again be able to speak to her friend. But Glinda was here now, had been here all along. 

“I thought you died.” Years of heartbreak came pouring out, her voice breaking as she spoke. 

“Clearly, I didn't.” 

The words sounded bitter.

“How?”

At this Glinda did turn around. Her face was expressionless, not even her eyes gave away anything of what she was feeling.

“So that’s what you want.” Glinda nodded as if this confirmed some suspicion of hers. She sighed again. “Ozma. She made all the witches of Oz immortal. For a time anyway.”

Elphaba gave the other witch an incredulous look. 

“She has attachment issues,” Glinda explained as if it was supposed to make any sense.

“What?” Elphaba blinked at her, trying to understand the words coming out of Glinda's mouth. The Ozma line had been lost when the Wizard came to Oz. “Who are you talking about?”

“Oh right.” Glinda tilted her head. “I found Ozma.”

“What?”

“It's not that impressive. I was looking into the Wizard’s papers to understand everything I needed to fix after he left, and well, I found her.”

“You did?”

“A few years after you…” Glinda went quiet then, a strange expression crossing her face, before she took a deep breath and put her usual smile back in place. “I found her. Actually, I rescued her from a wicked witch. Oh, but that one was truly wicked, not like…well you know.”

“That’s incredible Glinda”

The good witch shook her head as if to dismiss the praise. Her pretty blonde curls shone under the candle light, giving the impression of a halo around her head.

“She decided that she wasn't ready to grow up or to let any of her friends go, so…”

“So she made you immortal,” Elphaba finished, trying to understand.

“Made us immortal. No witches from Oz can die until her say-so.”

This was more than a little terrifying. The idea that anyone could have that much power, let alone a child, sounded like something out of a nightmare.

“If that's all, I will be going.” Glinda started to turn to walk away, and Elphaba’s heart lurked in her chest, all thoughts of overpowered fairy children fleeing her mind.

“Wait, what about your goddaughters, aren't you going to say goodbye to them.”

Glinda waved her off. 

“They'll be fine. They won't even notice I am gone.”

“Of course, they will. They love you,” Elphaba pleaded, growing desperate. “Everyone here loves you.”

That had always been Glinda's greatest power. No one who met her could fail to love her, not even Elphaba, no matter how much she tried to resist it at first. 

“People don't love me, Elphaba.” Glinda cocked her head, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “They love the character I play and what she can do for them.”

“That's…”

“The truth. Now, if you don't mind I am going to go. I feel rather tired.” 

This was it. Glinda was leaving, and Elphaba had no reason to ask her to stay. After everything, it was going to end like this. No warm embrace, no scream, no tears, just this.

“Aren't you going to ask?” Elphaba blurted out.

Glinda only looked at her confused. “Ask what?” 

“How I am alive.” 

Elphaba felt nauseous, so many times she had imagined this conversation, but none of her fantasies could prepare her for the reality.

“Oh Elphaba, I know how.” Glinda's eyes looked old, every century that had failed to leave a trace on her face could be seen in her eyes. “I’ve known for a long time.”

“We never wanted to lie to you.”

“It's all water under the bridge.” At this, a strange sound came from the other witch’s lips, something between a cry and a laugh as she waved a dismissive hand. “Let bygones be bygones or whatever people say.”

“We never wanted to hurt you.” The guilt felt as if it was eating her inside. So many years she had spent falling asleep to the memory of her friend’s anguished cries. 

“I’m fine. Truly. Fabulous, even.” Glinda gave a sweet smile and tossed her blonde hair, the light reflecting on the diamonds of her tiara sparkling against the walls of the corridor.

“If I’d known you were alive, I would have…”

Glinda raised a skeptical brow as if daring her to continue. “How is Fiyero these days?”

“He’s well.” Elphaba blinked at the change of topics. “He’s here right now. If you wanted, we could…”

“No, that’s alright. Some things are better left in the past.”

Elphaba's heart squeezed painfully in her chest, as her friend turned her back to her, ready to leave. Nothing would make her stay.

“I live in the heart of the forbidden woods.” The green witch felt her palm begin to sweat. “I would love it if you came to see me.”

Glinda gave a dry chuckle and kept on walking. A valet handed her a red cape which she clasped around her throat before stepping outside. 

Elphaba followed her there. The snow storm had ceased, but the wind was still blowing hard, and the green witch huddled for warmth. 

“Glinda please, I think we need to talk.” She walked towards the good witch ready to continue their conversation, freezing or not, but she barely had time to watch the blonde tap the heels of her slippers three times and take a step forward. And just like that she was gone.

Elphaba watched alone as the wind swept away the snow where just a few seconds ago her friend had stood. 

Chapter Text

It had been three weeks since the ball and three weeks since Glinda had been able to think of anything but that night. To be able to admire Elphaba's emerald hue in the flesh, to hear her speak, to feel her magic make the very air crackle with electricity, after spending so many years trying to remember these details about her, it was maddening.

The good witch was sitting at her office desk, a beautiful piece of furniture she had specially commissioned from the Emerald City. Its light chestnut colour and pretty carving of flowers and butterflies matched perfectly with the room’s wallpaper. 

Her office was small but still had three large bay windows that gave unto the castle’s main garden. At this time of spring, you could smell the scent of the hyacinths and lilacs sitting by one of them.

It was a cheerful room. She had designed it that way, hoping that it would help keep her spirit up even when dealing with the worst of political upheaval. But it was failing her now.

Glinda had been reading the same sentence for the past hour, some legislative proposal regarding the grazing of Sheep on private property. Animal rights had come a long way in 300 years, but there were still pockets of resistance, mainly amongst the Gillikinese’s nobles. They were a small group, but they wielded a disproportionate amount of influence and caused her too many headaches.

She felt one coming on now. Glinda pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing she could rid herself of some of these aristocrats.

Although technically no longer the throne minister, she found herself sharing most of those responsibilities with Ozma. Immortal fairy or not, the girl was still a child, and with Glinda's luck, she would choose to remain one forever. 

As if Glinda did not have enough on her plate ruling over Gillikin. 

Outside the window of her office, the sun was starting to set. Shadows were gathering at the corners of the room. She would need to get up to light a lamp. Soon, she would not be able to read her documents at all if she didn't.

A knock on her door interrupted her musings.

“Yes,” she called.

One of her youngest maids, Ethona popped her head in, her tight brown curls bouncing with her movements.

“Dinner will be served soon, your Goodness.”

“Thank you, Ethona. Tell Cook to have two plates sent to my apartments. I will be entertaining tonight.”

“Very well, your Goodness,” the girl answered, almost turning to walk away before seeming to think better of it. “If I may, my lady, it is good to see you have company again. We all have been worried.”

Glinda pinched her lips at her audacity. Ethona was new and quite young, but she should know better than to comment on her employer’s personal life. The good witch would need to have a discussion with Mrs. Rakkey, tell her to instill a sense of discretion in the girl.

“Thank you, Ethona. That will be all.”

“Of course, my lady.” The maid bit her lips, blushing as if she understood that she had overstepped.

The girl left with a gentle click of the door.

Glinda rubbed her eyes, trying to find some relief for her burgeoning headache. She felt sure her eyes would be bloodshot. Terribly unattractive.

Gathering her papers, the witch got up ready to go back to her apartments. She would not get any further with these legislations tonight.

Three of her maidens were waiting outside her door, hoping to catch her attention before she left for bed. She had been ignoring them for the past few weeks, a fact for which she felt truly remorseful but couldn't be bothered to change. 

Lenira, Giskel, and Seres were standing, huddled together in the hallway, all dressed in silk garments that showed off their toned arms to perfection.

They had all taken the time to pleat their hair in the way she preferred, in the way her Elphie…

“Miss Glinda,” the girls greeted her.

Glinda nodded her head in their direction without stopping.

Lenira smiled at Glinda as she passed, displaying her adorable gap tooth, and the witch felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest at the sight.

“Are you busy?” Seres asked. 

“Terribly so, I am afraid. Well, goodnight girls.” Glinda passed them by without any more than these words.

She felt their gaze on her back as she briskly made her way to her private home. She did not turn around.

Once safe, behind the doors of her apartments, Glinda took a deep breath. There was no reason for her reaction. Many people had gap tooth smiles. She had seen Lenira’s hundreds of times before. It was no excuse to lose her composure like this.

Glinda shook her head at her own stupidity. 

The inside of her apartments was dark. The few rays of sunshine left outside cast the salmon-coloured walls of her entranceway a deep red. 

Glinda remained there, breathing in and out until her headache started to subside. 

She preferred to avoid poppy seed tea when dealing with pain these days. She knew how easily one could overindulge.

Abandoning the hall, she walked over to her dressing room, lighting a few lamps on the way there until her home looked a cheerful pink. She removed her heavy dress, an exquisite work of beading and embroidery on lavender satin. She carefully undid the ties of her skirt, petticoats, and pannier, leaving them hanging from a chair for a maid to put away. Then she unpinned the bodice and stomacher until she was stripped down to nothing but her stays and chemise. 

She gave a sigh of relief at feeling the weight of the material peeling away from her body as she rolled her shoulders to try and diffuse the tension that had accumulated there throughout the day. 

If she was truly honest, she should say throughout the past three weeks.

She felt utterly pathetic. Elphaba was probably home with Fiyero, not giving a single thought to her awful college roommate, while Glinda couldn't stop thinking about that night in every detail.

Even in her simple frock, Elphaba had looked stunning. The way her emerald skin had glowed under the ballroom candlelight…There was simply no comparison.

Glinda sat at her vanity, looking at her own tired face. Not a single wrinkle and yet she looked so old. She had barely slept since the ball. It had not been this bad since she found out that Elphaba was alive, only fifty years after the melting.

She hadn't even taken one of her girls to bed since then, which was ridiculous. It's not as if Elphaba would care if she did or not. She had Fiyero, and even if she didn't, she had never felt that way about Glinda. 

That was to be expected, Elphaba was…well she was something that went beyond description, and Glinda was something much less.

Outside, some of Glinda's maidens were coming home from a day spent in the garden. They must be approaching her windows. She could hear their giggles as they walked back to the castle walls. One of them was singing. Mona if she had to guess.

Glinda had never been enough for anyone, not really. She had an entire castle full of beautiful women vying for her attention, and yet, even with them she had to play a role. Glinda the Good. 

Galinda wasn't enough for them, let alone for someone like her Elphie, someone so good and kind. Someone so smart, so brave, so beautiful… so extraordinary. Someone so much better than Glinda could ever hope to be, no matter how many centuries she spent trying.

The witch examined her curls, finding them dull and flat as she began brushing through them with a wide tooth comb, applying a small bit of oil to the end while making sure not to spread any on her roots, until her hair shone and bounced once again.

She had asked Beatrice to come tonight. The knight was one of her favorite companions. She would be a good distraction, and she wouldn't care if Glinda looked a bit less put together than usual.

Still, the witch touched up her makeup, applying a fresh coat of lipstick and mascara to her face, pausing to look at the effect.

She had looked better. But it would have to do.

“Dinner, your Goodness.”

Glinda startled. She had not heard a knock. She laid a delicate hand on her chest, trying to compose herself.

“Thank you, Ethona. You can leave it on the table,” she said loudly through the door of her dressing room.

If dinner was already served, then Beatrice would be here soon. 

Glinda applied some perfume to a few spots on her body, where she hoped most to be kissed, adding a few drops to the skirt of her chemise so that the smell of roses would follow her every movement.

Getting up, she took a long look at herself in the full-length mirror. She was still not pleased with what she saw. The blonde let her shoulders droop. She felt as tired as she looked.

Glinda was thinking of slipping on something a little more daring, when she heard the sound of Beatrice heavy footsteps approaching. It was too late to change.

The blonde rushed over to her boudoir, artfully arranging herself on her couch so as to appear her most tempting self. There would be no doubt about the kind of distraction she was hoping to get from the knight tonight.

Beatrice came in looking as handsome as she usually did with her short but glossy red hair, tall figure, and her strong form.

She gave the witch the expected compliments, all about how beautiful Glinda looked tonight. 

It gave the blonde none of the usual thrill.

They shared a meal. Cook had prepared a flavourful dinner of roasted chicken and tender greens that the good witch would normally savour. Tonight like every night since the ball, she could barely taste anything.

The knight and witch talked as they ate or more to the point, Beatrice talked while Glinda tried her best to focus on what the redhead was saying instead of having imaginary conversations with another woman in her head. 

Despite her best efforts, Glinda could not remember anything they discussed.

It was all going horrendibly wrong. The distraction she had planned for herself simply was not working as she had hoped, and so, Glinda decided to take matters into her own hands, straddling the redhead without warning, and cutting off whatever the other woman was about to say with a forceful kiss on the lips.

Yes, that was the kind of distraction she wanted, less talk and more of this.

Beatrice responded with enthusiasm, clasping a strong hand around Glinda’s waist, holding her in place, while her other hand ran up one of the witch’s tight. The blonde shivered at the feel of those deft fingers caressing her through the material of her underclothes.

This was exactly what she needed to forget all about the way Elphaba moaned, so deep yet so soft, when she…

Glinda broke the kiss, trailing her mouth to Beatrice’s ear, gently biting her there before caressing the wound with her tongue in an apology. The knight’s fingers trailed upwards on Glinda's inner thigh. The witch felt the woman’s short nail gently scratched the sensitive skin there. She gave the other woman a moan of encouragement.

Beatrice let go of her waist to run her fingers in Glinda's curls, and the witch closed her eyes, relaxing into the touch, her head lolling into the redhead’s hand. 

Glinda tried to focus on this moment, on the very real feel of Beatrice’ strong thighs between her own spread legs instead of the imaginary picture of a woman who did not want her.

She listened to the sound of the redhead ragged breathing mingling with her own, smelt the musk of the other woman’s skin.

Then she heard a click. A rusty hinge.

Her bedroom door?

Odd.

Glinda opened her eyes.

And Elphaba was staring back at her.

Actually staring at her.

Standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

The blonde blinked.

The green woman was still there.

Glinda screeched, jumping off the couch.

Beatrice pushed her back down, pointing her sword at Elphaba. 

A second later, the knight was flying towards the ceiling, a force which defied gravity itself pushing her upward.

The result of all this was that Beatrice was hanging near the chandelier while Glinda laid provocatively with her ass in the air on the plush pink cushions of her couch. Elphaba meanwhile simply stood over the scene, looking her most commending self.

Glinda let out a whimper. 

“Elphie!”

Elphaba stared back at her, her eyes thunderous.

Glinda felt naked under that gaze. 

Of course, she almost was.

“Oh Shiz!” Glinda fumbled around the room looking for something to put on as Beatrice screamed in pure terror. “Do put her down, won't you? Beatrice won't point her sword at you anymore.”

Elphaba didn't answer. Her expression remained just as unamused, but she did lower the knight down.

“Ah!” Glinda grabbed a pink robe, she must have forgotten on an armchair. It clashed terribly with her lavender coloured stays, a fact which she felt self conscious about as she tied the sash around her waist.

Of course, after 300 years without so much as a word, that wicked green thing had to show up now, when Glinda couldn't coordinate an outfit. 

Beatrice had run her fingers through her hair. It must look a fright. Glinda tried to brush back the strands with her fingers. 

It simply wasn't fair. To be caught appearing so untidy when Elphaba came in looking like her usual scrumptacious self. 

The good witch turned back towards the scene to find Beatrice, feet now firmly on the ground, looking at her, pupils dilated, face ashen.

“It's quite alright Bea. Elphaba is an old friend. There's no need to worry.” 

Glinda widened her eyes in a way which she knew made her look her most innocent, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Bea,” Elphaba muttered.

“Your Goodness, are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. Elphaba and I have known each other for centuries. This was just a misunderstanding. I wasn't expecting her until tomorrow.” Turning to address the other witch, “You’re here early, but it’s very good to see you as always.”

Of course, Elphaba was no help at all. The green thing was scowling at her, as if this situation wasn't her fault in the first place. 

“Well Bea, it was very good of you to come tonight, but I think it would be best if we cut this short.”

“Your Goodness, I must insist…” The knight took a step towards her, obviously still shaken.

“None of that now. I must greet my guest. I am sure you can understand.”

“Certainly, but…”

“Well then, goodnight Bea.”

The redhead looked between the two witches as if trying to decide whether to disobey orders.

“If there's any trouble, you can…” she began to say. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Glinda cut her off. “But there won't be any problem. Now, goodnight.”

Beatrice stood there for a moment, glaring at Elphaba, but as Glinda did not change her mind, the knight finally agreed to leave.

Glinda closed the door behind her, resting herself against it and closing her eyes, wondering if Elphaba would still be there when she opened them.

She was. And she was still scowling.

“Can I get you anything?” the good witch asked, her many years of etiquette lessons finally coming back to her. 

“I’m fine.”

“It's a long way to Oz. I know I tried to get to your realm by Bubble once…” she trailed off, not wanting to discuss her sad attempts at looking for Elphaba with the woman in question. “You must be hungry.”

“I said I’m fine.” The woman crossed her arms, looking anything but.

“I’ll ring for some tea.” 

The blonde turned away to do so, pulling on a velvet rope to summon a maid. 

“Glinda.”

“It shouldn't take long.” 

Once her task completed, Glinda fumbled with something to do with her hands, settling on tidying a desk by the boudoir’s door. 

She moved the small bust of Lurline sitting there, straightening it. Then she laid a few letters in a neat pile. Much better.

And oh there! Her bubble gum pink lipstick. She had been looking for that. 

“Glinda.”

“You still like that spiced tea? I can ask the kitchen to make it if you'd like.”

The memories of those precious few months where they had shared a dorm room had never left Glinda. She still remembered the exact cardamon smell of the tea Elphaba used to favour. She had never been quite as fond of it herself, but she always ensured her kitchen had it in stock. Just in case. 

“Of course, if your tastes have changed, I could…”

“Galinda!”

The good witch went still. She dropped the pens she was about to put away. They clattered to the floor. 

To hear that name in her Elphie’s mouth made her heart jump in her throat. It had been so long since anyone had called her that.

“You didn't come,” Elphaba stated. 

So that is what this was about. Strange to think that after all this time, Elphaba would come all this way to lecture her about that.

“I didn't think you really wanted to see me.”

Afterall, she had tried to, not now that was true, but many times over the last centuries. Yet, it seemed like Elphaba kept an enchantment to ward her home from witches like her. She never could find it. And with the woman in question going through all the trouble of faking her own death right in front of the blonde…well, a girl could take a hint.

“Of course I did.” Elphaba looked at her, her face twisted in confusion. “Why would you think I didn’t?”

“Oh well, you know.” Glinda shrugged as if this conversation was not digging into a wound centuries old that refused to heal.

“I don't. That's why I’m asking.” 

Elphaba’s tone was clipped, but her eyes, oh her beautiful forest green eyes, they seemed to soften for a moment.

“How did you find me?” The blonde changed the topic. “I didn't think you knew where I lived.”

“I didn't. I went to the Emerald City palace first, but your old apartments only had a few hundred of your dresses. I thought you must have moved.”

“And so, you looked through Gillikin?”

“And so, I looked for the answer in a book.”

Of course, she did.

Elphaba dug into a pocket in her cape and held up a slightly battered copy of a travel book, the latest edition of the Oz Explorer. Titled Good Gillikin, the cover showed a picture of Chuffrey Hall, Glinda's castle. The drawing had been done from the bottom of the hill, the pink marble walls of her home glinting in the light of dawn. The image included a view of some of the expensive gardens surrounding the property with only a hint of the deadly desert behind them.

“How did you get this?” Glinda frowned. She couldn't imagine they sold this in the Enchanted Forest. Elphaba had to have found it in the Emerald City.

“I broke into a bookstore,” the green woman stated as if this was nothing to be remarked upon.

Glinda gasped. 

Elphaba had taken a great risk. While the centuries that had passed meant that there were very few people left in the world who remembered the wicked witch, her friend's verdigris was a dead give away. People might not have known the witch personally, but they knew she was green.

That was nothing Glinda couldn't smooth over, if need be, of course. Still, that had been stupidly dangerous. If she had been caught and Glinda hadn't been there to talk things out…

The thought terrified and angered the good witch in equal measure. Yet, to her shame, she felt her inside twist in pleasure at the thought of her Elphie risking so much to find her.

Glinda had always been selfish.

“What were you thinking?” The blonde gave the green witch a gentle slap on the hand that was holding that offensive book.

“I was thinking that we needed to talk and…”

The nerve of that woman. Three centuries without so much as a “How are you?” and now she wanted to talk. She wanted to talk so badly that she would take such a horrendible risk to do so. 

Glinda could just grasp that soft green neck of hers and squeeze until she saw sense.

“You could have been caught…” Glinda stomped her foot, eliciting a smile from Elphaba. The good witch frowned at her, her lower lip jutting out. Couldn't she see how serious this was? Obviously, she didn't because she kept on smiling at her as if Glinda was being dramatic. 

She was not.

“No one saw me.” Elphaba tilted her head, her voice soft and gentle in a way that did things to Glinda's inside. “I’m alright. You don't need to worry.” 

“Well I do.” 

“You were always a worrywart, my sweet.”

The blonde’s cheeks glowed red, an odd kind of warmth pooling into her stomach and settling there. 

My sweet.

That was new.

“You rang, your Goodness.” A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

“Yes.” Glinda almost ran to open the door, happy for the excuse to escape this conversation. Ethona was waiting on the other side.

 “I wanted to ask for some tea to be brought up.” The blonde gave the brunette a sweet smile. “Maybe some cold sandwiches, no meat, and some of the scones from this afternoon. Oh, and I would like that spiced tea, the one with the cardamon.”

“Very well, your Goodness. Will that be all?”

“Yes, for now. Thank you, Ethona.”

Glinda closed the door behind her maid and looked back towards Elphaba, at a loss as to what to say.

“It shouldn't take long,” she finally settled on, shrugging in a way that she hoped made her look nonchalant. 

“I am really not that hungry.” Elphaba frowned, stubborn as ever. “You don't need to…”

“Of course, I need to. You are my guest.” 

Glinda tossed her blonde hair and waved Elphaba towards the couch. Of course, the green witch ignored her invitation.

“Glinda, I wanted to…” Elphaba began to say.

“I should put something on,” the blonde cut her off, smiling her best hosted smile, the palms of her hands growing disgustingly sweaty. “I will be just a clock tick.”

“Glinda please…”

“Just a clock tick.”

Glinda walked over to her dressing room, closing the door behind her. Her heart was racing through her chest as if she ran there. 

She closed her eyes and breathed in. She was being stupid again, getting so worked up because Elphaba spoke to her gently and gave her a new pet name. This was embarrassing. 

Glinda sighed. She needed to get a hold of herself. 

She began to look through her enormous wardrobe, lamenting the fact that she had nothing suitable to wear. 

She couldn't wear one of her ballgowns, not with Elphaba, not now.

The blonde ran her hands through her dresses, feeling the smooth texture of silk, the softness of cotton, the roughness of brocade. Every one of these dresses was exquisite. They were all fitted for a queen. They all screamed Glinda the Good Witch, ruler of Gillikin. 

None of them felt like Galinda.

And for some odd, unexplainable reason, she needed to feel like Galinda right now.

Not that Elphaba really wanted that girl. 

That was to be expected. Her Elphie had every reason to walk away from that selfish brat in the first place. 

Yet, Glinda the Good wouldn't do. 

Glinda must have spent several clock ticks, looking through her wardrobe, worrying over what to wear. It was a wonder Elphaba hadn't come to check on her already.

Finally settling on one of her simplest gowns, a raspberry pink frock made of soft chiffon that did wonders for her decolletage, Glinda caught herself rearranging her breasts inside her stays, pushing them up and closer together. It was a ridiculous thing to do. There was not much for her to show in the first place, and it wasn't as if Elphaba would notice or appreciate her efforts. 

“Glinda? What are you doing in there?”

“Just a minute! I will be right there.”

The blonde examined herself in her mirror. The dress was entirely too long, much too fancy, and she still looked tired, but there was no denying that her breasts looked nice in this. Obviously, Elphaba wouldn't care, but…

“Glinda! You don't need to do all of that. Just come out.”

The good witch sighed. Elphaba was right as always. She was wasting her time. There was nothing she could do to make her Elphie look at her in that way. It was a wonder the other woman didn't hate her in the first place.

“Coming!” Glinda opened the door and walked back to her boudoir to find Elphaba sitting on the couch, her arms crossed over her chest, looking for all the world like the most put upon woman in existence.

“Finally!” The green witch turned to look at her, her frown transforming into a surprised expression as she took in the sight of Glinda. “Oh… that’s a nice dress.”

All power of thought left Glinda's mind. 

She giggled, the sound a little too high pitched. 

“This old thing.” She held her skirt in a dismissive gesture, very humble and demure. “Why thank you.”

“Look, Glinda, I just needed to talk to you.”

Glinda who had been avoiding her every attempt at talking since she crashed in, only grinned at her, her heart galloping in her chest.

She thought Glinda looked nice.

“Of course, yes,” she said, a little too breathy.

A gentle tapping interrupted them once more, breaking the spell.

“Oh, that would be the tea.” Glinda sprang into action.

“Just leave it. I told you I am not that hungry.”

Once again, the good witch ignored her request, opening the door to find Ethona waiting there with a large and full tray.

“Cook wanted to know if the portion for dinner had been insufficient for your Goodness?” the girl asked.

“Tell her it was fine.” Glinda waved her concerns away as she gathered the tray in her own hands. “I am just entertaining more guests than expected.”

“Very good, my lady.”

“To that point, please tell Mrs. Rakkey that I need a room to be made ready. The one closest to my apartments will do.”

“Oh!” Ethona held a hand to her mouth, looking far too pleased with this revelation. “Yes, of course your Goodness.”

Truly, this girl needed to be taught discretion.

“That will be all. Goodnight Ethona.”

“Goodnight my lady.”

Glinda held the tray, closing her door with a kick of her foot as she walked over to set it down on her coffee table.

“I don't need a room.” Elphaba continued to make herself difficult, the stubborn old thing.

“Don't be ridiculous. Of course you do.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You spent who knows how many days flying through the desert.” Glinda shook her head, and then to make sure the other woman didn't think she had forgotten she added, “Not to mention committing petty crimes. You must be exhausted.”

“Well, I’m not.” The other witch actually pouted. 

“Very well then, I am,” Glinda said, yawning for good measure. “I was getting ready for bed when you showed up.”

“I noticed,” Elphaba sneered.

Glinda felt her cheeks get warm, all of the blood in her body rushing to them.

She wasn't ashamed of her particular predilection for the fairer sex. Not anymore. It wasn't that uncommon, not in Oz at any rate, especially now that their good witch had been revealed to be one of that sort. 

Still, there were corners in Oz where this was still frowned upon, some in Munchkinland in fact, but Glinda had never imagined that her Elphie might be one of those people.

She had always been broader minded than most. The thought that she might disapprove of Glinda stung.

The good witch looked down at the floor, playing with the sash of her dress, feeling the soft chiffon furl and unfurl around her palm.

“Ah, well you see, Beatrice is a very good friend of mine and so…” 

Elphaba gave an unattractive snort.

“I wasn't aware this was the kind of thing you did with your friends.”

“That's different.” Glinda bit her lips, her cheeks still red, her eyes starting to sting as she stared at her wooden floor. “From you and I, I mean.”

“From you and me, and clearly.”

Elphaba could have slapped her, and it would have hurt less.

“You should eat something, and I should check on your room.” She turned to walk out. “Excuse me.”

“Glinda!”

“I should really…” The blonde touched the cold metal of the doorknob.

“Glinda please, I don't want to fight with you.” Elphaba no longer looked scornful, her eyes gentle once again.

But Glinda still felt the sting.

“Well then, why did you come here?” She swallowed, unable to meet the green woman’s eyes.

“I missed you.”

Glinda’s heart convulsed agonizingly in her chest. It was her turn to snort.

“Right. That is very kind of you to say.”

“I mean that.” Elphaba pleaded, her voice sounding so vulnerable. “Did you miss me?”

It was all too much.

After all this time…

Glinda's throat closed up. She couldn't breathe.

“I am sorry, but I really need to go.” 

She rushed out of her apartments like a woman fleeing a ghost.

The good witch went over to the room next to hers instead to check that it was being prepared to her liking. 

No one was there yet, so Glinda sat down on the settee by the fireplace and waited. 

As the closest room to her apartments, this was one of the best in the palace. Its large windows let in plenty of sunshine during the day and gave a rare view of Glinda's private garden.

The room, like most of her castle, was covered in pink wallpapers, the molding around the doors and ceiling giving it a touch of cream.

Elphaba would hate this room, but it was too late to redecorate. Glinda would get on that tomorrow, turn the place into something dreary and boring just to the green woman’s taste.

Two maids, Basti and Gort, walked into the room with a pail full of chopped wood, ready to light the fireplace. Nights were still chilly in this time of spring.

“I have a special guest tonight,” Glinda began without preamble.

The maids looked down at where she was sitting in the dark, startled.

“Yes, your Goodness,” they both acknowledged her.

“You might find her peculiar,” Glinda stated, starting the work of smoothing things over for Elphaba. “But she is a dear friend of mine, and it is important to me that she be made to feel welcome.”

“Of course, your Goodness.” They both nodded.

“She is green.”

Best to get that out of the way quickly. 

“Green?” Gort’s eyebrows disappeared behind her fringe. 

“Like the…” Basti started to ask.

“Precisely.” Glinda nodded at them. There was little point in denying the obvious. “But the Wicked Witch of the West is dead as you both know. Elphaba is the Good Witch of the West.”

“A good witch, my lady?” Gort looked at her unconvinced.

“Yes, but of the West where all the witches are green as you may not have known. They were only two, and it was all so long ago.”

Both women looked at each other, seemingly uncertain.

“Oh…but may I ask…” Basti sounded nervous. “If I may…, are you sure, your Goodness?”

“Of course, I am. Do you doubt me?”

“No, no, never, my lady.”

Both women shook their heads, terrified of the implications that they would question their good witch, she who had led them through so many crises, who had defeated so many threats, who had ruled over them fairly for centuries now.

Who in Oz was left to question her?

She was goodness itself afterall. 

“Elphaba and I have known each other for centuries,” Glinda explained. “It was the Wicked Witch who drove her out of Oz, but I will not have her driven out of my home.”

“Absolutely, your Goodness,” Basti replied.

“We will do everything to make her feel comfortable here,” Gort added.

“Good. Now, I will be retiring. Goodnight to you both.”

“Goodnight your Goodness.”

When Glinda came back to the boudoir, Elphaba was nowhere to be found. 

She had always done this. When things got difficult, she ran.

Not that Glinda was doing much better now. Still…

Well, Elphaba could find her own way to her bed. After the conversation Glinda just had, the staff would know where to send her.

The blonde noticed that the tea tray was now empty. Only a few spots of jam and some crumbs were left. 

So, she had been hungry. That stubborn green thing.

The good witch walked to her bedroom, stripping herself of all of her clothes and changing into one of her short nightdresses.

Silly to think she had spent so long trying to find something to wear to impress Elphaba. She shouldn't have bothered.

She got ready for bed quickly, much quicker than usual, skipping steps in her usual routine. She was simply too exhausted tonight.

Glinda got into bed and laid there, staring at her ceiling for what seemed like hours, unable to sleep. 

She felt tired enough to sleep for a hundred years, and yet she couldn't get a wink.

Morbidly, she wondered if she should do just that, curse herself to slumber for a century. She wouldn't have to deal with stupidly gorgeous green witches after that. No fairy child in need of a mother. No land full of people that always needed more from her. Just blissful sleep.

She knew how to cast that spell. She had done it twice before, to stop that dreadful Quadling witch and to save that little princess that one time. 

Glinda tossed around in her bed trying to find a comfortable position, feeling her silk sheet glide over her bare thighs. 

Now that she thought of it, she should check on that girl. It must be getting close to the hundred-year mark. That princess would be waking up soon. Maybe she should look for a prince to send her way. 

Afterall, that's what all beautiful women truly wanted. Brainless princes. Never beautiful and sophisticated witch queens who could give them their heart’s desires, who would always make sure they had good food to eat, soft beds to sleep in, and a whole book place full of rare and medium rare books for them to read. Never that.

Glinda muffled a sniffle into her pillow.

Stupid Elphaba! Stupid Fiyero! Stupid Glinda! 

Most of all stupid Glinda.

What did that woman mean by coming all this way? Telling Glinda, she missed her? 

Well Glinda had been right here where Elphaba left her. She could have sent word anytime. 

The good witch had even made herself famous in every corner of the realm Elphaba called home, hoping the green woman would seek her out.

But nothing. Three centuries of nothing.

The grandfather clock kept on ticking in the next room, the sound seeming so loud in the quiet apartments.

Elphaba couldn't have missed her. She was only saying that to be nice because she felt guilty. Elphaba was a good person like that. She would try to make Glinda feel better about being rejected. But couldn't she see that this was worse?

Glinda groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

Pathetic. That's what she was, just pathetic.

Glinda turned around in her bed and hugged her knees to her chest.

She was so tired. But it was a long time before she fell asleep.

By the next morning, she felt no more rested than the night before. She had tossed and turned all night, trying to figure out what to say to Elphaba. She knew the other woman wanted to talk. But she still couldn't think of anything left for her to say. Not without revealing too much of herself.

She got ready for the day, following the usual steps without thinking about what she was doing, her mind otherwise occupied.

She walked out of her apartment to the sound of giggles. Five of her maidens were standing by the bottom of the staircase leading to her private chambers. Elphaba stood to the side, looking at the girls with pure venom.

“What is going on here?” Glinda stepped down the stairs to join them. 

“Nothing, Miss Glinda.” Lenira gave her one of her pretty grins. Glinda wanted to wipe it off her face. She hated seeing her Elphie so upset. “We were only giving the new girl a proper welcome.”

Elphaba fisted her hands. The walls started to lightly shake.

“What new girl?” Glinda asked, genuinely confused. 

At this, the girls started to laugh, something cruel in their gaze. But before Glinda could tell them to pack their things and leave her sight, Elphaba rushed out of the room.

Glinda ran in pursuit.

“Elphie, where are you going?”

“Home,” Elphaba stated.

Glinda felt her stomach drop. 

“I thought you wanted to talk?” she asked, something desperate in her tone.

“I changed my mind.”

“Oh well then.” Glinda was sure she must look as white as a corpse as she followed Elphaba all the way to the door to the garden. “Let me get Cook to pack some food for your journey.”

She wanted to slap herself for not knowing what else to say.

“I’ll be fine.” Elphaba shrugged off her concerns, her eyes avoiding the good witch, her voice cold enough to freeze Glinda's heart.

“But…”

“I don't need your help, Glinda.”

The blonde couldn't breathe for a moment. After everything, to be dismissed like this. That cruel woman…that wicked woman.

“Fine!” Glinda shouted just as Elphaba opened the door and walked out, the wind carrying a few cherry blossom petals inside as she did. “You go. Starve before you reach your home. See if I care.”

“Will do.”

This was too much to be borne. Tears were gathering in Glinda's eyes before she could stop them.

“Oh Elphie, please…”

But Elphaba didn't turn around, instead waving her hands to close the door on Glinda's stunned face.

The good witch stood there for a moment, her knees shaking, her breathing ragged.

Elphaba ran off without even a goodbye.

Glinda grinded her teeth.

Good then. That wicked green thing could go. Glinda hadn't wanted her here in the first place.

The tears in her eyes began to run down her cheeks, too fast to stop them. Her knees gave out, her dress pooling around her as she laid on the ground, a few blossoms clinging to her skirt.

That was too terrible a lie. Oh, how she wanted Elphie here. Always.

But she never stayed. Glinda should know this by now.

Elphaba had once promised to never leave her behind again. But she lied. 

She lied.

She left Glinda.

So many times.

She never came back.

Glinda screamed, a wounded animal sound, as she slapped her fists on the hard marble floor. Her hands stung from the blow, but she kept going.

If Elphaba thought that she would chase after her, well she would have to wait a long time. Forever even. Because Glinda was done running after her.

Done!

She would never ever look for her again.

Never.